The TARDIS Graveyard
by A Renegade Time Lord
Summary: One lone teenaged human, sucked through a space-time rift, similar to that in Cardiff, arrives in a TARDIS graveyard, full of ancient, insane, dead and decrepit TARDISes. One TARDIS out of all of them can still fly and is desperate for contact.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, the TARDIS, or anything related to Doctor Who. They are the property of the BBC, and, when I am finished, will be returned in condition in which they were found in and in original intact packaging.**

The TARDIS Graveyard

Clair's P.O.V.

Taking the shape of a large china cabinet, the Type 51, Mark I TT Capsule\TARDIS (Time And Relative Dimensions In Space), Clair, was lying in the middle of a field of destruction, where she had come to rest after laying waste to the area around her. The area in question was astonishingly small, compared to what a TARDIS could have done at the time of the Event, which spoke to the state of mind the wondrous machine was in when the attack happened. Such horrible agony, fear and sorrow at being alone, having lost all her Time Lord pilots, all of whom she was bonded to through their Rassilon Imprimaturi, all of them pilots she had been bonded to for many centuries, torn away in an instant, killed in a white hot moment of horror, pain, fear, and sorrow.

She was probably the only remaining operational (albeit dormant) TARDIS in that dark place, and she had been so alone for so very, very long that the first contact with a Time Lord or human she could get, she would take it. To a TARDIS, being alone is not like it is for humans or Time Lords. For a TARDIS, being alone is the absolute worst possible fate, short of complete destruction or death of the operator(s). A TARDIS is a sentient being, but more than that, TARDISes are both dependent upon social interaction to survive, and very socially hardy creatures, capable of surviving with contact from only one sentient creature out of a hundred million _billion _galaxies, instead of the many, many consciousnesses a TARDIS is created alongside and communicates with in the Dry Dimension Dockyards on Gallifrey.

She was not asleep-TARDISes cannot sleep, they don't need to- but she was in something similar to sleep-mode, but not quite, a state somewhat akin to emergency power, but not exactly. She was scanning, scanning endlessly for any recognizable sign of Gallifreyan technology. She drew power from the nearby space-time rift and kept herself sustained while she dozed on and constantly watched the skies for her brethren and also monitored the nearby rift. It was small, much too small for her to slip through, but large enough that a Time Lord or human might-_might_-be able to slip through.

Michael's P.O.V.

_Cold winter nights are the best for stargazing,_ _however, staying up 'til quarter past four in the morning on a school night, is most certainly NOT best for waking up at 6 o'clock that same morning,_ Michael thought groggily as he rolled out of bed, dragged himself to the bathroom and showered quickly, trundled back to his bedroom and dressed himself in his school uniform (shirt and tie), retrieved his jacket and pack with his schoolwork in it, went downstairs and went out the front door. He waltzed down the driveway, thinking somewhat clearer thanks to the shower, and noticed a kind of disturbance, a certain physical _wrongness_ to the treeline. The curious boy he was, he ran over to investigate it, completely unaware that the disturbance was in fact, a rift in space-time. Due to the rift's visual nature, he was unable to accurately determine exactly where it was and fell right into it and came out on the other side, in a cold, dank, fairly dark, but surprisingly breathable atmosphere, with odd shapes of anything and everything around him.

Clair's P.O.V.

Clair was monitoring the sky and the rift in her half-awake state when she received a high enough activity reading on the rift that it brought her right awake, or at least, as awake as one can be after around ten thousand years of living in a half-awake, half-asleep state of existence. A space-time rift constantly releases different types of energies, and when an object or life-form crosses through one, it releases these same energies, there are simply more of them. These elevated energies can be detected by the proper equipment, like that aboard a TARDIS. The rift also bears a chance of opening wider with each crossing, similar to a dam with a crack in it, the water leaking through forcing the crack to get bigger and bigger until a flood ensues. Granted, it wouldn't be _quite _the same: The rift itself would consume the world, not a flood of cosmic… stuffs.

Like all TARDISes, Clair possessed scanners that were capable of locating and identifying, not just rift fluctuations, but life-forms of all shapes and sizes (and time sensitivities), and, for the first time in around ten thousand years, the scanner which registered life-forms picked up a reading. _A Time Lord? _She thought hopefully. _No, this is not a Time Lord. This is a human. Another sentient being…_

There shall soon be more! Just a little longer…


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I know I used my name as the human character's. I hadn't thought of another name to use, so I took the one that I thought of first.

Michael's P.O.V.

Mud. Michael landed face-down in a mudhole. At least, it tasted like mud, with that heavily earthy taste you can almost smell. It certainly didn't smell like mud though. "Ugh!" He said, with a tone of disgust. At least, he intended to say, "Ugh!" It came out sounding more like a muffled groan. Pushing himself onto his knees, he spat out a mouthful of mud and looked around for the… hole he had fallen through.

"What…?" He was looking for the rift, but what he saw was… changing? He sprang to his feet and sploshed out of the mudhole (for his environment had appeared around it too), and turned his head rapidly, trying to look everywhere at the same. Yes. His environment was changing rapidly, and had completely changed in about three seconds. He was now inside a huge space, which was lighted fairly brightly. There were several staircases, heading off into corridors, some of which had separate staircases that led to a balcony overlooking the… area he was in.

As his he looked at the balcony, a column at the center of the area caught his attention. It seemed to be a console of sorts, judging from the fact that there appeared to be a number of switches on it. Michael stepped around the mudhole (which was rapidly shrinking) and approached the console, looking around cautiously. At the edge of the console, he looked up and saw that, far from stopping at an opaque ceiling, the top of the console seemed to go on forever, branching out and spreading out over what appeared to be _miles_, interconnecting with what looked like clusters of nebulae, stars and galaxies. _Galaxies! _Whatever this… place… was, it was beautiful. He was so entranced by the sight before and above him, he failed to take heed of either the humming that began or the holographic figure that flickered into existence beside him.

"Wow… Hah!" He exclaimed, jumping back and landing on his back, scrambling to put a little distance between himself and the hologram. "Who- w-wha- I- ehm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just… Where are we?" he stammered, trying to explain himself. "And who are you?"

Looking at him with what looked like a slightly hungry expression, it said, "I believe I ought to be asking _you _that question, if I didn't already know what you call yourself." "Y- you know my name?" Michael asked from his position. "Is that what it is called?" She- for the figure was undoubtedly female- looked down at him. "Regardless of your designation, I must know: Do you wish to return to your home, wherever it may be?"

From his place on the floor, he adopted an askance expression and said "Of course. And, uh, who are you?"

"I am not a 'who', although if you wish a designation to address me by, you may call me Clair. Second, what you see is a Cybernetic Personality, Matrix Interface, meaning the form you see is a hologram, designed to be a verbal interaction point and liaison between pilots and other sentient beings and my Artron Mainframe."

She saw that exactly what her words meant were lost on the human, which, honestly, was not unexpected. "Pilots? Artron Mainframe? Of what? And what are you?" he asked. "I am a Type 51, Mark I TT Capsule/TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." She explained. "And what is a… Tardis?" he asked. "TARDIS is an acronym, standing for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." Clair explained patiently.

"I'm afraid I will require a bit more information than that." Michael said, climbing to his feet and adopting a business-like demeanor.

"It is not possible to understand what exactly the acronym TARDIS means or what one is unless you are a Time Lord, or have been inside a TARDIS, which you are."

My sincere apologies for the tardiness of my update. I literally have had no time to work on the chapter, nor update it. It should be up within a month or two!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I am so very sorry for my long absence, my dears. I have been in a major dry spell for this story. Like Sahara Desert dry and large. That, and the combination of writing for school and my job has quite literally taken all of my time. Everything that I have had to has been sheer Discord and driven me very slightly insane. Forgive me?

P.S. If you like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, I have written two stories for that fandom! One is "The End of All," and the other is "Luna, My Love." The first one is complete, the second is in-progress. End transmission.

"I'm inside a Tardis?" he asked. "This building, you mean?"

"We do appear to be inside a building, do we not? However, we are not inside a building. We are not even inside an object. A fairly accurate description of a TARDIS would be to say that it is not an object, but more similar to a space, or area, even though it isn't exactly a space either. In summary, a TARDIS is a ship."

"I have something to show you." Clair pointed down a flight of stairs, to a pair of doors that looked more appropriate on a china cabinet or a wardrobe. "Step outside those doors, and you will discover one of the defining characteristics of a TARDIS."

_If there's one thing here that looks out of place, it's those doors._ He thought as he descended the staircase. "You really expect me to believe that this building is a ship?" he asked, annoyed that Clair would not simply tell him where he was, and genuinely intrigued at the same time. He had reached the doors now, and, pushing them open, he stepped outside, turned around and felt his jaw hit the dirt. His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to speak, and, finding his words had deserted him, he rubbed his eyes, thinking they might have been lying to him. His mind could produce only one simple thought: _Gwuh?_

It was a fairly tall china cabinet. That was bigger on the inside? No! _I'm… I'm dreaming! That's all! A dream! A box that's bigger on the inside is not possible! Although…_ Thinking about the area he had seen before Clair had materialized around him, and looking at the area around him now, he realized that her words were the only feasible explanation. It was clear he was dealing with something no one had ever seen before. At least, that was what the scientific part of his mind was saying. The other 75 percent was in total denial. Stunned, he poked his arm back through the doorway, waved it about and felt the wall of the interior with his hand. Sure enough, his arm reached… well, where the exterior of the box did not. Pulling his arm out, he ran his hand through his hair, remembering that he (not to mention his clothes) was coated in mud.

Regaining a fairly calm mindset, he walked back into the… box?... and looked around. The place was _dusty_. It looked like no one had been here for a very long time. With remarkable clarity, Michael turned back to the console and the waiting holographic figure of Clair. "Clair? Who… How long have you been here?"

Clair appeared to be surprised. After a moment, "You are perceptive. And you are correct; I have been on this planet for a very long time, sleeping. It… is quite a story. Would you like to hear it? It is painful to remember, but I will go over it if you wish?" She said slowly, looking at him with something like apprehension. Seeing her apprehension, Michael quickly said, "No, please. If it hurts you to remember, don't tell me. I don't want your first impression of me to be one of hurt." She looked at Michael with another expression, this one of gratitude. "…Thank you, Michael." She smiled.

"Would you like to cleanse yourself and change your clothes?"

"What?!"


	4. Chapter 4

In the Wardrobe

"Wow. How big is this place?!" Michael exclaimed, looking up and around. He and Clair were in the TARDIS wardrobe. The Wardrobe contained an absolutely MASSIVE amount of clothes from many different times, planets, and times on those planets. Including Earth.

"There are over fifteen thousand different rooms, each serving a function." Clair answered. "How was your shower?"

"Very nice, and thank you for bringing me a bathrobe. It is kind of drafty in here."

"You are most welcome. The temperature control mechanisms are unresponsive as of right now. " She raised an arm, gesturing to the huge amount of clothing. "You may use any article of clothing you wish. Shoes, socks, and boots are two levels down. Is there anything else you want to know about the wardrobe?"

Michael shook his head. "No, thank you."

Clair nodded. "I'll see you back in the Console Room, yes?"

"Okay."

The image of Clair faded. Michael wrapped the bathrobe around himself more tightly and started leafing through the articles of clothing. Jackets, winter coats, suit jackets, waistcoats, slacks, jeans, T-shirts, dress shirts, muu muus, you name it, it was there, each item hanging on its own hanger.

Michael was kind of persnickety about his clothes. He very much preferred formal or semi-formal clothes to casual (shirt, tie, and slacks to T-shirts and jeans). They were much classier than casual.

In accordance with his preferences, he picked out a white, long-sleeved dress shirt, a deep blue tie(not a bow tie, even though they _are_ cool ), a pair of black slacks, a waistcoat(black), a matching jacket, and a tan trench coat. Missing shoes and socks, he descended the spiral staircase and picked up a pair of socks and a pair of dress shoes that fit.

Checking himself in one of the full-length mirrors found on each level, he slid on the shirt, and buttoned it, admiring the texture. He wasn't obsessed with clothing, but he knew how to appreciate a savory piece. Next came the trousers. A belt came on the hanger. He slid into them and buckled the belt. After that, he slipped the tie around his neck, tied it in a Half-Windsor knot and tightened it. Done with the tie, he sat on the bench situated in front of the mirror, he pulled on the socks, slid his feet into the shoes and tied them.

Picking up the waistcoat, he put his arms through the holes, buttoned it, and felt a weight in the right pocket. He put his hand in the pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. It was a fairly heavy thing, and the cover was engraved with an elegant circular design. Opening it, he surveyed the face. The face gleamed in the light and was also engraved with a different circular pattern. All in all, it was heavily detailed and very beautiful. It hung from a chain which measured about thirteen inches. He liked it and slipped the hook on the chain onto the lip of the pocket and the watch actually inside the pocket.

He slid the jacket off its hanger and pulled it on, noticing a long pocket sewn into the lining. The pocket had something silver sticking out of it. He pulled out the mysterious object. It was about thirteen long and somewhat weighty, about two and a half pounds. Most of the body was glossy black except for the silver end. It had four claws at the other end. Michael noticed there was a button on the handle which practically screamed "PRESS ME!"

He took it in one hand( strangely, it was contoured to fit his hand) and softly pressed the button. A light he hadn't noticed at the tip illuminated, bathing everything at that end in a white light and the device made a whirring sound. _Hmm. Cool. No idea what it's for. I suppose I'll ask Clair?_ He slid it back into the pocket it came out of and examined himself in the mirror. The end result seemed classy without seeming arrogant (Yes, you can give off an arrogant vibe by your appearance alone; I do not recommend it) or snobbish. Satisfied with his appearance, he turned and mounted the stairs back to the Console Room.

In the Console Room

"What shall I do? Michael surely does not know anything about to repair my systems, and I have sustained enough damage that I cannot do it myself." Clair fretted to herself. "I could guide him. He could make the repairs under my guidance. Yes. That would work if Michael is willing to repair me."

"Clair?" Michael's voice floated from behind her and she turned around to see him dressed rather nicely, she thought. "How do I look? Too classy? Or should I go for a more casual look?"

"You look rather like one of my...my pilots, Radagast did. I much think it is a... how do you say it?... _nice_ look for you." She intoned, reluctantly reliving the memory of her landing.

"Nice. Okay, thank you." He nodded, the pulled out the device he had examined in the wardrobe. In the brighter light of the Console Room, he could see that the device was also decorated in a circular font-type, much like the watch. "Do you know what this thing is?" he asked, holding it up. "I found it in a pocket sewn into the interior of this jacket."

"Oh yes. What you are holding is a sonic probe. It is a tool, serving numerous functions, including that of a scanner, remote interface and lockpick." She explained. "As the name suggests, the probe uses sonic waves to achieve its task, based on the setting. I created it for you, based on the contours of your hand, which is why it fits your hand snugly." She paused. "Do you wish to return to your home planet?"

"...Yes?"

"Good. Now, I have a proposition for you."


End file.
